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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865472">Raising Havoc</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosieMarieVivianWilkins/pseuds/JosieMarieVivianWilkins'>JosieMarieVivianWilkins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Secret Love of Pets [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baby, Canon Compliant, Cat, Cute, Daddy Gallavich, Dog - Freeform, Fluff, Follow-on, Future Fic, M/M, Mandy 2.0 and Mutt are back bitches, Oneshot, Parenthood, Parents, Pets, Season 11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:00:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosieMarieVivianWilkins/pseuds/JosieMarieVivianWilkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey's family expands again, but how will the current members react to this?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Secret Love of Pets [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Raising Havoc</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am on a roll rn (here is an appropriate meme I made about - https://imgflip.com/i/3y9edu)</p><p>Anyway, thank you so much for all the amazing feedback, kudos etc on the other instalments of this. I sort of love writing this little world atm.</p><p>As a writer, hits, comments, etc. are crazy motivating, and the exclusion of non-logged-in user hit counts is noticeable. I can guarantee I'm not the only writer on here noticing the drop and feeling the little slump that it gives you. So I would 100% encourage any of the non-users reading to request an account invitation and encourage any other non-users to do the same. And to obviously log in if you do have an account. And regardless, anyone reading is appreciated and I hope that you are all keeping safe :)</p><p>Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you thought or send me a prompt or smth on Tumblr - thebestpartofthecarrotcostume.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Still can’t believe you shitheads named the fucking cat after me!” Mandy spat as the walked through the front door, one hand on her lower back and the other raised in a middle finger to her namesake. Once inside, she promptly dropped her handbag on to the floor and all but collapsed on to the couch, her legs up in the coffee table. </p><p>“Most people would be flattered,” Ian joked as he moved to pick up her handbag and place it on the coffee table out of Mutt's reach; it was always very clear when the Milkovich woman came over that she did not have pets. </p><p>Leaning her has back over the couch, a hand over her eyes, Mandy retorted, “I was <em>flattered </em>when you asked me to be your baby mama, now I’m just fat, jet-lagged, and being stared at by a scrawny rat.” </p><p>“Bitch, first off, you had to sit in the car for an hour, don’t count as 'jet-lag’. And secondly, don’t talk about my fucking cat like that or I will titty-twister you the minute you pop. Ian’s been reading those books out loud and I know how much your tits are gonna' hurt after so think twice before you insult 'the new and improved' Mandy,” Mickey playfully threatened, returning the middle finger his cat had received and sticking out his tongue playfully. He exited the lounge in favour of opening the kitchen door to let Mutt out to the bathroom, scruffing Mandy 2.0’s head as he passed her on the back of the couch.  </p><p>Sitting himself on the back porch, the Milkovich man pulled a carton of cigarettes from his shorts pocket, lighting one up and dragging on it for dear life. The hot July sun beat down on his calves where the porch didn’t shade them as he leant back on an elbow, closing his eyes and chasing the relief of the nicotine. </p><p>“Seeming a bit real?” Ian’s voice broke Mickey’s peace. The tall man was walking out of the kitchen, Mandy 2.0 purring away in his arms. He sat down beside his husband, seeing the older man instantly reach to stroke their cat, something that had become a comfort over the last few months. </p><p>“I... Yeah.” The shorter man mumbled, leaning forward to stub out his cigarette and drop it in to an ashtray before instantly popping another between his lips. He offered the carton to Ian in a silent question. </p><p>“Nah. Last time I had ‘just one' it took three months for me to fully quit. Don’t have another three months spare before she gets here.” </p><p>Mutt barking had Mandy 2.0 scampering away from the couple to go and investigate, finding him attempting to frighten a pigeon from his tree. Mickey and Ian watched as their cat instantly sprung in to action, racing up the trunk of the tree with a lack of grace that made the branch the pigeon was perched on shake enough to startle the bird in to flying away.  </p><p><em>Softie</em>, both men thought to themselves, knowing that, unlike their sister inside, this Mandy didn’t have a bone in her tiny frame capable of killing anything bigger than a spider (and even then she preferred to simply play with them, batting them about the floor, occasionally mouthing them before discarding of them when they stopped moving). </p><p>Running a hand up to his face and in to his hair, Mickey pointed out, “Don’t even have three days.” Mandy’s C-section was booked for Friday, only two days away, and that say terrified born men. He took a long drag, long enough that it burned the back of his throat almost, causing his to have to clear his throat a few times to save from coughing. “I’ll quit as soon as she’s here, don’t worry.” </p><p>Wrapping an arm around his husband’s waist, Ian leant in, mumbling “I wasn’t,” in to the dark locks that were flecked with a handful of greys. He pressed a kiss in to the hair just above Mickey’s ear, leaning his forehead against the spot after. </p><p>“Thanks, man. Just... I don’t know what to do. I mean, was this the right thing? Was it too soon? What if I drop her? Maybe I’m not ready to be a dad...” The cigarette trembled in Mickey’s hand enough for the ash to fall off on its own. </p><p>“Do you think it was the wrong thing?” Ian’s words seemed a little deflated as he pulled his head back to look at his husband fully. </p><p>A small sigh and a thumb pinching the bridge of his nose were the shorter man’s immediate response. He dropped the burning cigarette in to the grass before standing to go and pick up Mutt's ball and throw it to the other side of the yard for the speedy dog, having it back at his feet before he could find the words for Ian. As the bouncy dog stood waiting for the launch of his ball, Mickey feigned a throw, allowing the ball to drop down from over his shoulder in to the waiting hand behind his back. That had the dog perplexed, looking around the garden in confusion, long enough for him to say softly “I don’t think anything we’ve ever done is wrong. It’s just that I’m fucking scared, man.” He took a long breath, dropping the ball on the grass when Ian came to stand behind him, hands around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder. “I was a shitty dad to Yev. Now the kid doesn’t even know I exist.” </p><p>Ian pressed a soft kiss in to his neck before he spoke; “You were looking at fifteen years and Svet was looking at deportation: a lot of stuff happened and things got weird.” He brushed a finger along Mickey’s jaw lightly, causing the shorter man to shiver slightly. “You weren’t ready for a kid then, certainly not one who was the result of rape. But you did the best you could with the situation you were in. And Yev is doing good with Svet and Joe up in Canada... Maybe it was just how it was meant to be.” </p><p>Mickey nodded solemnly, leaning back in to his husband’s touch. “I’m gonna' go see what Mands wants for dinner,” he resigned, turning to pop a soft kiss on Ian’s lips before heading back inside. </p><p>For the nights that followed up to Mandy’s procedure, Mickey would find a lot of reasons to be alone, trying to smoke his way through the nerves and anxiety of the impending birth of their daughter. When it got later in the day, Ian would go and find him sitting in the nursery, having fallen asleep in the rocking chair with Mandy 2.0 in his lap. The first time, Ian had taken a picture, secretly hoping that in weeks to come he would have the exact same photo but with their daughter in place of the black cat that doted on Mickey. He knew it was all difficult and most likely somewhat triggering for Mickey, so he never questioned his disappearances, instead just making sure he ate, drank, and slept the night in their bed. </p><p>The morning of the procedure, Mickey sat on the porch, Mutt laying by his side, and chain-smoked the remainder of his carton of cigarettes before showering, as though trying to wash away his previous self. And then the rest of the day passed in a blur of 'please wait here, gentlemen's and 'no, the baby hasn’t been fucking born yet' responses to siblings' calls.  </p><p>Finally, after three hours, they were allowed in to see Mandy and the baby. The latter was just being moved in to her plastic cot beside the bed by a nurse when they walked in. </p><p>Mickey hugged his sister lightly, mindful of the fact that she had quite literally just been sliced open whilst awake. “Well done,” he whispered in to her hair. </p><p>Pulling back, she looked to him with soft eyes and said “Don’t you ever think of asking me to have another baby for you. If he gets broody,” she jerked a thumb in Ian’s direction, “get him a goldfish!” </p><p>All three of them laughed as Mickey and Ian made to look down at their daughter and grin proudly. Of course, that bright, glowing ginger hair had been inherited from Ian, and later in life they would find that her fiery personality (a Milkovich inheritance) would match the vibrant locks.  </p><p>“Can we...?” Mickey’s question hung I  the air as he looked between their daughter and his sister questioningly. </p><p>“She’s your kid, do what you want and just yell when she wants a boob again.” Her answer was playful, but the older man knew her well enough to know she was trying to make her emotions about the second child she had given birth to (her first child had been stillborn six years back; Mickey had been reluctant to ask for her help because of the fact, so Ian has gone and done it in secret). Yes, the baby was biologically her daughter, but she would never try to be a mother to her, not wanting to take that from her brother and best friend, instead insisting that aunt Mandy would always be there for them.  </p><p>With shaking hands, the dark-haired man reached in to being his daughter in to his arms, feeling his eyes sting as he looked down at her. He felt himself tremble with emotion as he was whispering “Thank you, Mandy,” whilst gazing at the small human in his arms, her blue eyes wide as she stared back at him curiously. Ian was at his side, an arm wrapped around his waist as he watched his two favourite humans bonding for the first time. </p><p>“So, what are you gonna' call her?” Mandy asked, smiling softly as she watched her brother stare at the small bundle of joy that was her niece. </p><p>Cocking a brow in mock thought, Ian suggested “Mandy 3.0,” biting back a smirk. Mickey snorting loudly in response had the little girl frowning and letting out several loud cries. He abruptly thrust the child at his husband, remembering how Ian had always been the one to soothe Yevgeny (he would learn to do it, spending many coming days and nights watching his husband adoringly, noticing and absorbing his actions. </p><p>“Something classy, we ain’t having a hood kid called Sheniqua, she needs a normal name so people don’t judge her without knowing her.” Mickey’s words already possessed a defensive tone, insisting he would give the baby the best possible life he could. </p><p>“The pets got Ms so what about something with an I?” Mandy suggested, her eyes watery from her bed. </p><p>Both boys shrugged and Mickey mumbled, “Well, I only know Isabelle and that shit is common as hell, so give us some cool I names, Mands.” His phrasing had pulled a chuckle from Ian; he managed to soothe the crying girl with some bouncing and rocking, holding her close to his chest. </p><p>“Oh, shit. Okay. I’m gonna’ just throw a load out there.” She paused briefly to think. “India.” </p><p>“That’s a country,” Ian sighed, rolling his eyes. </p><p>“Wow, rough crowd. Okay. Iris. Isla. Iona. Imogen. Idina.” </p><p>The two men shared glances before Mickey piped in, “I’m sure that last one is made up, so that’s a no. What do you think?” </p><p>“I thought Isla or Imogen were cute – and no immediate insults came to mind that I could think of!” Ian still stared down at his daughter as she settled, offering her back to his husband when she was calm. </p><p>“Yes then, parenting skills! Try being a kid called Mikhailo growing up on the South Side.” The shorter man grinned at his husband before addressing their daughter, “Are you an Imogen?” The baby blinked up at her dad, yawning in response. “Nah, fuck that, she’s bored of that shit already!” </p><p>“Isla it is then,” Ian declared, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s temple. </p><p>Taking Isla home was exciting and daunting all in one go. Mandy was staying with them for the first week, and then the second week they would be going at alone, her boyfriend collecting her on the Tuesday. Mandy would express her milk and freeze it for one of them to then drive down and collect at the end of each week.  </p><p>Getting Mutt to understand that he couldn’t lick the baby any time she was within reach was an ongoing trial, but other than that both Mutt and Mandy 2.0 adjusted to the new resident in the home well. At first, they had locked the animals out of their bedroom so as not to allow them to disturb Isla, but one evening the door had not quite caught properly. </p><p><em>Feeling a hot weight on his feet during the sticky summer night, Mickey groaned, knocking an elbow in to Ian gently and mumbling out a “Get off, too hot.”</em> </p><p><em>“</em>You <em>get off </em>me<em> then,” Ian retorted, rubbing at his eyes blearily, ready to lay in to his husband for disturbing his sleep (something they were both struggling with since bringing their daughter home).</em> </p><p><em>“I’m not...” And then they both looked up to see Mutt laying across both of their feet, moving to lick at Mickey’s calf. The bedroom door was open. And that was enough for them spring to life, with Mandy 2.0’s ability to jump and her sharp claws being their concern.</em> </p><p><em>The dog was startled as legs were yanked out from beneath him, looking with wide eyes as both men stood over the bassinet, relieved, sleepy smiles on their faces. Where Isla was tucked in, her Sleepyhead keeping her in place, the black cat lay at the baby's feet, curled up comfortably, a paw extended and resting over the blanket atop Isla’s petite toes. There was no malice or concern, Mandy 2.0 had simply found a friend better than Mickey or Ian to snuggle with at night.</em> </p><p>Having heard horror stories of how jealous and aggressive pets got when a new baby came in to the picture, the couple were very well aware of how lucky they had gotten with Mutt and Mandy 2.0. The two animals were actually more protective of her than anything, Mutt always standing nearby when somebody new came in to their house and held the baby girl. The dog had never growled a day in his life, but he was more than menacing enough as he all but stood on the new person’s feet, trailing them and having his presence known. Only once had this become problematic.</p><p>
  <em>Fiona had flown back in to Chicago when Isla was six (she had been so deep in business running her club that she had not been able to leave California until now), excited to meet her baby niece, all but yanking her from Ian’s arms and bouncing the alert infant on her hip as she cooed baby-talk at her.</em>
</p><p><em>Mickey was working until five, so it left Ian and Fiona a couple of hours to catch up properly before he got back. They had turned the radio on in the kitchen, letting it carry through to the lounge as they spoke. Isla was being bounced on her aunt Fiona’s knee, babbling happily whilst she and her daddy spoke. When ‘</em>I Want You Back<em>’ by The Jackson 5 came on, Fiona was up and dancing, Isla giggling at the excitement of the bouncy movement and singing from the adults around her. Wanting to keep the moment for when his daughter was older, he quickly went to the kitchen to grab his cell from the dining table. The phone was quickly discarded though when there was a shout from Fiona and a bang before the familiar tears belonging to his daughter filled the air. </em></p><p>
  <em>Later that evening, Mickey and Ian lay in bed, discussing ways to work on Mutt’s protectiveness over their daughter. The dog had not done anything wrong that afternoon, he had simply been trailing Fiona, as he did with anyone not from his household holding Isla, and Fiona had danced backwards, tripping over the dog. Fiona had a nasty bruise on her hip from where she had hit the coffee table on the way down, landing on her back; Isla had been unscathed, landing against her aunt’s chest, the rapid movement and bouncing against Fiona’s body the cause for her cries.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Man, we gotta’ do something before it becomes aggressive,” Mickey sighed, tucking his cold foot between his husband’s calf. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t- there isn’t any aggression or impulse to act, he just wants to be close in case he needs to do anything.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But the point is that that should only be around complete strangers!”</em>
</p><p><em>Rubbing at his hip soothingly, Ian reasoned, “Well, he’s never met Fi, Mick. She </em>is <em>a stranger to him, and even then he was cool, he just wanted to see that Isla was okay.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Turning in Ian’s hold, looking up in to green eyes, Mickey asked, “Ian, what if Fiona had dropped Isla? She could’ve been fucking hurt! Would you be less defensive of the dog if she had?”</em>
</p><p><em>His jaw set, the younger man all but jumped out of bed, staring down at Mickey hard as he spoke firmly. “There are so many fucking things wrong with what you just said, you fucking ass!” He stuck up his index finger: “She didn’t, and she’s safe.” Then his middle finger was added to the tall: “Don’t try and make out like I’m not taking the situation seriously; Mutt did </em>nothing<em> wrong or aggressive, he was just like you keeping an eye on any nurse that came in the room when she was born!” The ring finger was the final notch: “’The dog’ is fucking family!” And with that, Ian stormed out of the room, grabbing a blanket and pillow from the airing cupboard and planting himself on the couch for the night before any more could be said, the subject of their conversation curling up behind the bend of his knees.</em></p><p>
  <em>The next morning, Mickey had apologised, admitting that Ian had been right and that he was probably more over-protective than the dog could be. </em>
</p><p>Mutt and Mandy 2.0 were a staple part of Isla’s upbringing, littering the memories of her that were stored between both men’s phones.</p><p>As he had hoped, Ian had captured a mimicking of the photo of him and Mandy 2.0 snoozing on the rocking chair in the nursery. During a night feed when Ian was due in on an early shift, Mickey had stumbled out fo the room with their crying daughter to allow the younger man to sleep. Waking to an empty bedroom, Ian had gone in hunt of his family, finding Mickey asleep in the chair at the corner of the nursery, Isla’s head tucked in to the crook of his elbow and the cat settled on the back of the chair, her tail hanging over it and dangling beside his husband’s ear.</p><p>Isla’s first Christmas, where she had sat frowning at Mutt as he walked away with a discarded strip of shiny, silver wrapping paper (it had been wrapped around a soft ragdoll that Carl had bought her, but that wasn’t shiny, so it wasn’t important).</p><p>When the Gallaghers and Milkoviches all gathered at Mickey and Ian’s home for Isla’s first birthday, Debbie and Sandy had taken their niece away with both family pets to put pointy party hats on all of them, spending a good ten minutes fighting to obtain a photo of the three of them. The final outcome had Isla sitting and looking directly at the camera, her mouth wide, whilst the black cat stared above it (Sandy had been making kissy noises and clicking her fingers above Debbie’s head whilst the younger took the photo), her small face being hidden for the most part by the too-large hat. Mutt had chosen that photo to lick Isla’s pink hat attentively.</p><p>The toddler’s first steps had come as she attempted to chase the spotted dog across the garden, a determined look on her face, her mind set on getting her ball back from him. The video had been filled with cheers and ‘whoop’s from her daddies, ending with the video stopping abruptly when Isla had tripped and ended up with a mouthful of grass, both men running to check that she wasn’t hurt (was she heck; Gallaghers and Milkoviches were made of tougher stuff than that!).</p><p>A family barbecue saw the ginger girl – once again – frowning at the family dog, her chin already jutting out like Ian’s did when he was pissed, because he had snatched her hotdog from her grasp. In Mutt’s defence, she had been waving it at his face from her place on the picnic blanket, telling him all about the different condiments on her food like he understood her.</p><p>The first day of preschool, a day both men were anxious for, was commemorated by their daughter grinning a toothy grin as she clutched the skinny cat against her chest. Mandy 2.0 had constantly walked in to Isla’s room, searching for the missing girl, eventually settling on sleeping on her bed until she returned that afternoon.</p><p>Their little family was smaller than either of them had ever had, both growing up with multiple siblings and an all manner of chaos at any one point, but it was perfect, with just the right amount of child- and animal-made havoc that had Isla’s daddies both sporting greys in their early thirties (Mickey’s a little more pronounced than Ian’s due to the early onset and contrast of his raven hair). Nothing about their life was anything short of what they had both dreamed of on their wedding day, and it was everything they deserved after the battles they had faced to get where they were.</p><p> </p>
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